


Boy Basket Case

by marykathryn30



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sexy Times, Smut, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marykathryn30/pseuds/marykathryn30
Summary: “I’d love to see how far down the blush goes. See how hard I can make you shake. I bet you’d open right up for me, wouldn’t ya, doll?”I had no idea where this side of Steve was coming from. Steve Rogers, America’s golden, blushing virgin that kept a swear jar in Tony’s lab. The same Steve that fumbled and apologized when anyone suited up in front of him, blushing and ignoring eye contact.His hand slipped off my lip, down my neck, and stopped to cup the side of my throat, his thumb rubbing a searing line across my collarbones. The skin flamed red under his touch, and I could feel my legs start to tremble as heat pooled between them.





	Boy Basket Case

“Come on, it’s a sham!” Clint twirled his drumsticks between his fingers and pointed them at the hammer resting on Tony’s coffee table. He dropped his chin to his chest and lowered his voice. “He who lifts the hammer shall be worthy. Come on, man, it’s all a hoax.”

Thor grinned and leaned back against the couch, raising his glass to Clint. “If it’s a hoax, lift it.”

Clint rolled his eyes and stood up, earning whoops and cheers from me and Tony. “No shame if you can’t get it up,” I said, earning a whack on the back of my head from a drumstick. “You’re an old man with several kids. This is a safe place.”

“Cap is older than I am,” Clint grumbled, grabbing hold of the hammer’s leather strap.

“Hey, I can get it up about as far as you can,” Steve retorted, cracking open his, I think, tenth beer of the night. His bicep bulged against the blue dress shirt stretched over his body, his hip swinging around the corner of the bar; his black leather belt creaked around his hip bone, the one he had to punch two new holes in because his waist was so fucking small. Man had the shoulder to hip ratio of a Dorito. “We all know Thor is the only one who can get that thing all the way up.”

“Objection,” Tony called, raising his hand. “Call Pepper.”

“Oh, my god. Steve, we’re talking about dicks,” Nat said, tossing back the rest of her drink. “Care to fill me up?” She lobbed her glass at Steve, who caught it deftly with his beer free hand.

“What’re you having?”

“Vodka tonic.”

He nodded and swung back behind the bar.

“Anyway.” Tony kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “Clint, I believe you were about to, uh, fail miserably?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Just waiting for my audience,” he grumbled. His fingers curled around the metal handle and pulled. The hammer didn’t move. He tightened his jaw and pulled harder. The thing still didn’t move.

“Doesn’t look like a hoax to me.” Steve finally retreated from the bar, plopping his enormous body next to me on the couch. He leaned over my lap to pass Nat her drink, radiating body heat like a freaking oven.

Clint threw the leather strap off his wrist and opened his arms in Steve’s direction.

“Be my guest, Cap,” he said, gesturing to the unmoved hammer. Steve huffed and patted my knee, earning a suggestive eyebrow wiggle from Tony, and stood up. He rolled the sleeves of his overly tight dress shirt up to his elbows, and I tried to bury the obscene noise I made in the bottom of my glass. And, judging by the smirk twisting Nat and Tony’s lips, I didn’t bury it very well.

Steve gripped the handle of the hammer and tugged. The veins along the length of his arm popped against his skin, his biceps all but bursting his shirt. He grit his teeth and pulled harder, the muscles along his back and shoulder twisting and bulging under the thin cover of his shirt. He groaned, a thin tendon popping out across his temple; his eyes crinkles into familiar wrinkles at the corners, his jaw set, only emphasizing the sharpness of the angles there.

Tony smirked at my shameless staring and tapped the screen of his locked phone, signaling me to check mine. Hesitantly, I reached for the device next to me on the couch.

An unread text from Tony lit up the screen, and I glared at him over the screen as I opened it.

_Take a picture. It’ll last longer than Cap in bed._

I flipped Tony off as Steve gave up on trying to lift the hammer, falling back beside me on the couch. Tony smirked; Steve smacked my hand.

“Rude,” he said, referring to my silent request for Tony to go fuck himself.

“Yeah, Mace.” I could hear the smug rolling off Tony’s words. “That’s no way to treat our friends. Poor Cap might have to put you in time out.”

“Tony, fuck off.” I pushed myself off the couch and made my way to the bar. “I’m too sober for this shit.”

Clanking the bottles together a little louder than necessary to drown out Tony’s snickers, I poured myself a whiskey sour, dumping more than enough alcohol with the mix.

Tony and his fucking jokes. It wasn’t my fault Steve was built like a Greek God, his innocent and gentle demeanor starkly (ha, Starkly) contrasting what we all knew his body could do. It also wasn’t my fault that we got along surprisingly well, bantering and joking like we’d known each other for his entire 100 years. Steve was just easy to be friends with. He knew the way each member of the team showed stress, and he made it his mission to pull whoever was upset aside after training, making sure it was nothing more than a bad day. That’s how him and I had gotten so close in the first place.

I was the new kid in the Avengers playground. Fury had been tracking my file since the German government nosed a little too deeply into their special ops program, unearthing a mess of inhumane experimenting and a couple aging Hydra agents, hell bent on completing their work. The group Hydra had been creating disbanded at the whisper of a threat from the German government, leaving me out on the street with a set of abilities I had no idea how to control. I traded the hate I’d been harboring for something a little less draining, bouncing from country to country across Europe, trying to find some sort of women’s shelter or orphanage that would hire a ratty woman with no name.

Nick Fury eventually reached out in the form of Bruce Banner, who’d shuffled his feet and picked at loose strings at his clothes, explaining the Avengers and why I’d been chosen.

And now here I was, shaking a metal tumbler behind Tony Stark’s bar, watching my new friends attempt to call Thor out on his Asgardian bullshit as he swept the hammer easily off the coffee table.

I strained the drink out into a short glass, keeping my eyes down when a familiar cologne wafted up to the bar.

“Need another beer, Cap?” I asked without looking up. He pulled one of the stools up and sat, sliding my glass towards him after I dropped a couple ice cubes in.

“You’re not looking at me.”

“I’m fixing myself a drink, Steve. Kinda occupied.”

He shook my glass, clinking the ice around. I reached under the bar, pulling him out another beer and pretending to hunt for the bottle opener.

“Your drink is done. And a little strong, to be honest.” Steve pulled a face, puckering his lips as he set my glass back down. “Is it Tony?”

“Tony’s always a pain in the ass. Nothing new there.”

“He keeps teasing you,” Steve insisted, leaning his huge forearms onto the bar. “I can talk to him. More than happily.”

“I don’t need to be another excuse for you to bitch at Tony,” I said, sliding him his beer. I ran my fingers through my hair, forgetting Nat had heated it into wavy curls, plastering it in place with copious amounts of hairspray. “I’m just too sober for his shit right now is all.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth twitched and I knew he was itching to correct my language. He hated it when any of us swore, probed by his language outburst at Tony in Sokovia, and we all made a point of cursing in front of him as was socially acceptable. He tapped his fingers against the bar, chewing his full bottom lip and trying to decide if he believed me.

I downed half my drink in one gulp and moved out from behind the bar before he could decide.

The party carried on for about an hour after that. One by one, everyone retreated to their respective rooms in the compound. Eventually, it was just me and Tony. I was sipping on my last drink of the night while Tony ran through turning off all the lights with Friday. I didn’t have a room in the compound yet, since I’d only joined a couple of months ago, and spent most of my time undercover with Nat. I was planning on spending another night on the couch, thinking I could probably shimmy out of this uncomfortable dress and sleep in just my underwear, since no one would pass through the living room in the morning and I’d have a blanket.

“You know, I think there’s an extra room open,” Tony said like he’d read my mind. “Since Brucey couldn’t come, his room is empty. You don’t have to sleep on the couch if you don’t want to, though I admit it’s a good drunk pass out point.”

“I’ll take a bed over whatever you and Pepper have done on this couch.”

Tony grinned and winked, making me shake my head. “Seventh floor. Just go left down the hall, fourth room. Right next to Clint, which has some pretty annoying arrow holes in it that I refuse to fix.”

Friday’s voice interrupted through the speakers.

“But, sir, that’s not Mr. Banner’s roo-,”

“Remember when we moved everybody around, Friday?” Tony’s voice was a little too loud for the quiet atmosphere. “Bruce Hulked through the door, so we did a little construction right before you came,” he explained to me, calming my suspicious glance.

Thanks, Tony.” I dumped my glass into the sink behind the bar, making my way to the elevator a little wobbly.

The elevator beeped at the seventh floor, and I stepped out before heading left. I counted the doors as I went down the hall, noting the fifth door did indeed have small dents in a large H pattern, like Clint just sat in his room and shot his own initials in his bedroom door. I wouldn’t put it past him.

The door to the fourth room slid open and I stepped inside. Most of the lights were dimmed, and there was what sounded like 40’s music playing softly through the surround sound.

“Who is it?”

_Fuck. Fuck Tony Stark and his fucking jokes._

“Hello?”

_Seventh floor.. Fourth room. July fourth. Fuck._

Steve rounded the corner into the living room, towel drying his blonde locks. He was dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants that sat comfortably on his hip bones, revealing the muscular V that dipped into his lower body; his shirtless torso bloomed above them, all hard lines and tightened muscle. A few light bruises darkened his chest and shoulders, left over from the battle this morning. A couple tiny freckles spotted near his ribs and pecs, and I wanted to kiss every single one of them. His dogtags clinked together against his chest as he moved his arm to muss the towel through his hair, the silver glinting slightly in the low lighting.

“What’re you doing up here? Is everything okay?” Steve’s cheeks were tinted pink, his icy blue eyes and white teeth standing out even more against the red. His hair hung loose, something I’d never seen. Steve kept his hair as close to the military cut as he could, letting the top grow out a little longer than he would have in 1940. He usually kept the strands tightly gelled back so it didn’t get in his way. But now, it hung freely, dipping into his eyes just slightly. Despite being barely dressed, he looked warm and cozy and I wanted to run my fingers across every hard muscle hidden beneath his warm skin.

His expression immediately turned concerned and he moved towards me quickly, his bare feet padding across the hardwood floors.

“Ev- everything’s fine. Sorry,” I managed, clearing my throat and looking anywhere but the expanse of his chest in front of me. He was close enough now that I could smell his soap, something musky and clean. “Tony told me this was Bruce’s room and that it’d be empty.”

He blinked at me and tilted his head a little, shifting the hair across his forehead in a way that reminded me of a confused puppy.

“Why didn’t you head to your room?” A single drop of water snaked it’s way from Steve’s hair down his neck, leaving a clear trail until it pooled in his collarbone; my mouth went dry.

“Don’t- don’t have one yet. Tony’s still working on it. I- I usually sleep downstairs. But he offered Bruce’s room, and- and a bed sounded better than a couch and…”

Steve smiled at me, shaking his head a little. “Leave it to Tony to send you to me,” he said lowly, chuckling a little. “Well, a bed is always better than a couch, especially if that’s where you’ve been sleeping lately.” He slung the towel over his shoulder and motioned for me to step further into the apartment. I stepped forward slowly, taking in the room around me to keep myself from staring at the massive expanse of Steve’s chest.

It was simply decorated, a plush couch sitting in front of a simple TV, something boxy and old. Tony probably threw a fit when Steve lugged it to the apartment, complaining about his old fashioned technology, but Steve was nothing if not traditional. There was a chair next to the couch, and a small table littered with magazines- most of them historical, focusing on WWII- and a few pieces of crumpled paper; an old map of Brooklyn hung on the opposite wall, the time stamp in the corner dating back to the 40’s. A few picture frames rested on the coffee tables between the couch and chair, most of them from during the war. Steve and the Howling Commando’s, standing defiantly in front of a tank; Peggy Carter posing with the shield, it’s bold colors hidden by black and white. And-

“Is this you?” I gently picked up the frame, tracing my finger down the image of skinny boy with Steve’s face. A woman stood next to him, her arm around him, smiling down at him like he held the world on his bony shoulders.

“Me and my mother,” Steve’s voice was right behind me and I jumped a little. “That was right after my dad left for the war.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” I could hear the admiration dripping from his voice, and I felt my throat tighten a bit.

“I still can’t believe this is you,” I said, gesturing to the boy in the picture, hoping to change the subject. “You’re so… Small.”

Steve chuckled and plucked the frame from my hands.

“This is the only picture I kept of me before the serum,” he said, looking down at the picture. “I didn’t want any more reminders of that body than I needed.”

He set the frame back down on the table and twisted the right side of his mouth into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about… Before,” I said slowly, picking at my nails to avoid his eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Steve wasn’t comfortable talking about himself before the war, or really even during the war. As much of a history buff as he was, studying it and discussing it were two completely different things.

“Not much to talk about.” Steve shrugged and made his way to the kitchen, his feet padding gently against the hardwood floors. I followed hesitantly.

“As the leading expert on bottling shit up, I suggest you not do it.”

Steve snorted and grabbed a glass from the cupboard- _God_ his muscles rippled when he did anything, from the veins bulging in his forearms to the muscles tightening around his ribs- filling it with water from the sink before turning to me.

“How about this. You change into something a little more comfortable, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know about pre war Steve.”

“Can I shower? Nat put enough shit in my hair to make it fall out.”

He laughed and nodded.

“Of course. Bathroom’s down the hall, first door on your left.”

“On your left,” I mumbled, heading down the hall.

“I heard that!”

……………….

_Jesus Christ, Steve had a nice shower._

I dipped my head under the fucking massaging shower head again, hoping to rinse out every trace of hair spray with just the steaming water. Even without using any of his soap, it still smelled like Steve in here. The steam floated around me like misty clouds, making the tile walls shimmer. The tall, glass shower door kept everything nicely insulated, right down to the heated tiles that covered not only the bathroom floor, but extended into the shower. Heated floor tiles. In the fucking shower.

Once I’d scrubbed off every trace of makeup and hairspray off myself, I regretfully turned off the jets and opened the door. A dry towel was hanging off the towel warmer- _Seriously, Steve? A towel warmer?_ \- and a pair of leggings and a large white shirt hung from the unused towel rod with a small note.

Borrowed the leggings from Nat. Figured you could just wear one of my smaller shirts.

  * S.



I stepped out of the shower and tried not to think about the fact I was about to be wearing Steve’s clothes. I dried off slowly, wondering when the hell he’d come in here to give me a new towel and clothes, and if the steam had blocked his view of me in the shower. Which, honestly, I hoped it had.

I tugged on the leggings, hoping Nat would forgive me for going commando in her pants, and reached for my dress to pull my bra out of the crumpled pile. Before realizing… I hadn’t worn a bra.

Fuck.

I glanced at the shirt Steve had laid out, a simple white t-shirt with a v-neck. Nothing fancy, probably something he just pulled out of his closet. And something that would most definitely not hide my nipples well.

Chewing my lip, I considered my options. I could either change back into the dress and make a lame excuse as to why I was choosing to be uncomfortable, or I could put on the shirt and pray Steve still had enough of that good Catholic upbringing to not notice my chest.

I shook my hair out, letting it fall down towards my shoulders, before padding out of the bathroom, grabbing my boobs on instinct as my nipples hardened, looking for Steve.

“I’m in here.” His voice wafted down the hall from an open door. Damn his super hearing.

I followed the sound of his voice to the door, which so happened to lead to his bedroom. Standing in the doorway, I took in the room that was most definitely undeniably Steve.

His shield rested casually against the wall, close enough to the bed that it was in reach, but enough to the side that it wasn’t a distraction. His closet was organized by color, starting out with the dark green of his army uniform, finishing with the stars and stripes of his Captain America uniform; his shoes were lined up underneath the clothes, equally as tidy, down to each of the laces being tucked in under the tongues.

“Army regulations,” he said, almost like he was reading my mind. “It sort of sticks with you.”

My eyes flicked over to his massive form sitting Indian style on the bed, a sketch book open across his lap. A few papers were strewn onto the mattress in front of him, different images of eyes and hands scrawled onto the pages. An easel stood to the left of the bed, next to the only window in the room. A canvas was propped onto it, the light pencil sketches displaying the New York skyline specifically from Steve’s window, like he was capturing his spot of the city. That was the only corner of his room that was messy; crumpled papers littered the floor, smoother ones taped to the wall. Pencils stuck out every which way from a Captain America coffee mug, dried paint drips hiding the shield printed underneath; brushes dried in an old soup can on the window sill, like some sort of flower vase.

“I always forget how much you love to draw.”

Steve didn’t look up from whatever he was sketching, but I saw the trace of a smile twist his lips.

“Everybody kind of does. That’s why I keep it private.”

“You’re really talented, though, Steve.” I walked to his art corner, taking in all the different sketches he had taped up. Some of them were of the city- an old couple sitting on a bench, two pigeons fighting over a dropped ice cream cone- but the rest were of features, features of people we knew. “These are amazing.”

“Are you just complimenting my art so I’ll tell you about myself before the war?” he joked, throwing an eraser at my back.

“You’re an ass,” I teased, turning around and tossing the eraser back at him. “I was trying to be nice.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” He grinned at me and patted the bed next to him before snapping his sketchbook closed. He’d decided to put on a shirt while I was showering, but the too small wife beater still left very little to the imagination. The silver chain of his dogtags winked at me from under the collar, the tags tucked under the shirt. “So what do you want to know about Steve Rogers, boy basket case?”

“Shut up. I doubt you were a basket case.”

“You realize that, before this-,” Steve gestured to his body, six foot something of nothing but solid muscle and agility. “I was sick all the time? I spent almost my entire life being taken care of. First by my mother, then Bucky’s parents, then Bucky, when him and I moved in together. Thank god they let me do the experiment not too long after Buck left, or I probably would have died of pneumonia or something.”

“What was it like, getting the serum?”

Steve laughed, tossing his head back and stretching his legs out across the mattress. He tugged my arm and seated me next to him.

“I did nothing but break things the first month after.. I honestly didn’t know my own strength. I’d rip doors off hinges, accidentally dent car doors, shatter mugs. It took some getting used to. All of it did.”

“All my senses got heightened, I guess. My hearing, touch, taste. I had to learn how to walk through Brooklyn without feeling like my head was going to explode.” He shrugged and leaned back against the headboard, folding his arms behind his head. His biceps flexed obnoxiously with the movement, leaving them bulging behind him. He tipped his chin up slightly, focusing his eyes on the ceiling. “I had every dame in New York throwing themselves at me, but I could barely handle a kiss on the cheek, let alone anything more physical.”

“Poor Stevie got new muscles but wasn’t too good at controlling the one in his pants.” I patted his knee and pouted my lip at him. He rolled his eyes and playfully kicked at me, a smile twisting the corners of his mouth up.

“A dame kissed me once, right after I got back to base. It only lasted about a minute, but it, uh, had some interesting results.”

“Oh?”

Steve paused for a minute, his blush spreading from his ears to his neck and up to his face.

“Like I said… Everything got more sensitive.”

Steve reached out and traced his index finger along the curve of my knee, light enough that I could barely feel it. I felt my face heat up and I kept my head down, feeling his eyes drilling into me.

“Like right now,” he said softly, trailing his fingers up my leg to trace the inside of my arm. “I can feel your heartbeat. I can hear how it picks up when I touch you.” His voice was so soft, nearly as gentle as his touch against my skin, and it sent my heart hammering against my ribcage.

“I can feel you get warmer every time you blush.” Steve raised his eyes to meet mine, his pupils blown wide, the black almost drowning the warm blue behind them. He reached up and put his palm against my cheek, the soft pad of his thumb stroking the blush spreading across my cheeks. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like every inch of me was standing on end, waiting for what was coming next.

“You always blush so pretty for me,” Steve murmured. He moved his thumb down my face to slide it across my lower lip. A little smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “You’re shakin’, doll.”

His accent lifted his voice god damn perfectly, and I could feel his breath against my face as he leaned in impossibly closer.

“I’d love to see how far down the blush goes. See how hard I can make you shake. I bet you’d open right up for me, wouldn’t ya, doll?”

I had no idea where this side of Steve was coming from. _Steve Rogers,_ America’s golden, blushing virgin that kept a swear jar in Tony’s lab. The same Steve that fumbled and apologized when anyone suited up in front of him, blushing and ignoring eye contact.

His hand slipped off my lip, down my neck, and stopped to cup the side of my throat, his thumb rubbing a searing line across my collarbones. The skin flamed red under his touch, and I could feel my legs start to tremble as heat pooled between them.

“So damn pretty for me.” I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or himself, so I kept quiet, not trusting myself to form words. _Jesus_ he was so warm, his fingers calloused and rough, but so fucking gentle. He smelled like soap and something musky I couldn’t place, and every part of me wanted to lean into him, into his touch, and stay there forever.

“If you’re uncomfortable with this,” he said slowly, lifting his thumb from where it’d been stroking dangerously close to my chest to rest it back on my collarbone. “All you gotta do is say so. I don’t wanna force ya into anything.”

It took me a minute to register that he was looking for an answer.

“I- Steve, I- yes. I want to.”

He smiled at me, his lips stretching perfectly across his white teeth like I’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

“Then come ‘ere.”

He reached for me, pulling my body into his lap like I weighed nothing; one of his hands rested on my hip, and I could feel the strength rippling beneath his fingers as they pressed against the bone. His other hand slid up my back, resting on the back of my neck, tangling into my hair as he pulled me in for a kiss.

And Jesus Christ. Why hadn’t we done this earlier?

He was so gentle, tilting his head to the side, softly sucking my lower lip between his to nibble on it. He moved slowly, taking his sweet time, his breath fanning against my cheek.

“You’ve got-no idea- how long I’ve wanted- this,” he said between kisses, surging back in to reconnect our lips after every couple of words. His voice already sounded rough, similar to the way he sounded after a battle- low, scratchy, with enough husk to make panties drop throughout New York. I could only moan my reply, my fingers trailing up his shoulders, feeling each line of hardened muscle under his skin, before tangling into the loose hairs on the back of his neck.

Steve seemed to take that as an invitation, as if my earlier consent wasn’t enough. His hands immediately started wandering, moving from squeezing my hip to drag across my back, his blunt fingernails dragging against the fabric of my shirt. He pushed harder into the kiss, sinking his teeth into my lower lip before running his tongue across it to soothe the burst of pain. I moaned against his kiss, and he pushed his tongue past the barrier of my lips, quickly turning the kiss heated.

His fingers gripped the hair at the nape of my neck and he pulled slightly, encouraging me to tilt my head back; his lips immediately explored the newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of purple bruises in their path.

“Oh, my God, Steve.”

“Shhh,” he soothed. He shifted me on his lap so his thigh rested between my open legs, giving me something to grind on. “I’ve gotcha. Gonna make you feel so good, doll.” He emphasized his point by biting into the skin where my neck met my collarbones, pressing his warm, spit slicked lips against the newly indented mark.

Unable to stop myself, I knocked my head back further, exposing more of my neck and chest to him as I ground myself down against his thigh. The friction felt so good. He bent his knee slightly to make the angle a little less awkward, pushing more of his thigh against my core.

“That’s it,” he murmured, bringing both his hands forward to slip under my shirt. His palms cupped my ribs, stroking his thumbs against the curve underneath my breasts. He kissed his way up to my jaw and caught his teeth on my earlobe, drawing a gasp from me. “Look at you, all riled up for me. You’re bein’ so good for me. Lemme see ya, doll. I wanna see all of you.”

All I could do was nod as he pulled the white v neck off my body, tossing it to some corner of the room. His eyes widened slightly as he took me in, rubbing his hands along my bare back before sliding them forward to my shoulders.

His touch was intoxicating. He radiated heat in a way that wasn’t suffocating- it drew me into him. His hands were so warm and rough, creating stark contrast to the gentle way he touched me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He leaned forward and captured my mouth with his again, bringing me in for a searing kiss and his fingers slid slowly, so damn slowly, from my shoulders, bumping over my collarbones, tracing the swell of my breasts, to finally brush against my nipples.

I moaned into the kiss as his fingers pulled expertly at the sensitive bud. He drew his index finger around the outside of my nipple, making me whine and rut against him, before gingerly dragging just the calloused pad across the center.

“You’re such a tease,” I hissed, pulling my lips from his to kiss down the square line of his jaw, down the tendons popping against the warm skin of his neck. He chuckled and cupped my ass, squeezing a little when I sucked a hickey into his skin.

“I just like seein’ you fall apart like this,” he said breathlessly. He grabbed my thigh in his iron grip, flipping us over so he could rest on top of me, his hips pressed snugly between my legs. “I could do this all day.”

I rolled my eyes at his cliche’d line and wrapped my arms around his neck. He leaned in to kiss me again, his lips so full and soft and warm against mine it made my head spin. His hands wandered across my body, his long fingers dipping into the waistband of my leggings to pull them slowly down my legs.

“Never really done this before,” he said as I laughed into the kiss once the black fabric got caught at my knees. “I’m tempted to just tear them.”

“Please don’t.” I giggled, shimmying out of the pants as best I could without disrupting Steve. “They’re Nat’s. She’d kill me.”

Steve rolled his eyes and sat back on his ankles, pulling his shirt up from the bottom and yanking it off like some sort of sinful stripper; his dogtags clattered to rest back between his pecks, and I reached up to touch them.

“I didn’t know you wore one of Bucky’s,” I said softly, stroking my thumb against the punched out lines reading _James Buchanan Barnes_. Steve nodded and settled back down between my legs.

“Always have, since Azzano.” He peppered kisses along my jaw as he spoke. “Figured if I was blown up in pieces somewhere, Bucky would be too.”

“Makes sen-,” my words cut off in a broken moan as his teeth latched onto my earlobe again. His fingers trailed down my sides to the outside of my thighs, slowly massaging his way to the inside.

“So wet for me already,” he mused, sliding his finger across my entrance to circle my clit. My back arched against him instantly, a low whine leaving my lips. He kissed me again, pushing his tongue into my mouth as he carefully pushed two fingers inside me; he curled them upward, drawing moans out of me that he swallowed instantly, shifting his hand so his thumb could stroke against my clit with every thrust of his fingers.

“Oh, my god. St- Steve.” I broke the kiss to throw my head back. Steve grinned down at me, face flushed, looking like he’d just found out the Dodgers had won the World Series. “You like that?”

I nodded and grabbed onto his arm as he pumped faster, my nails digging into the sculpted muscle.

“M-more. Please, Steve, more.”

He twisted his wrist and pushed in a third finger, watching my reactions like he was studying every one, committing each movement that drew out the louder moans to memory. Heat tightened the muscles across my stomach, and I couldn’t stop chanting Steve’s name; my orgasm started to build as he sucked bruises along my neck, adding to his collection from earlier. His fingers continued moving in and out of me, my moans turning into soft cries the faster he moved. I waited for some hint of him getting tired, for his arm to get sore, but he wasn’t even breaking a sweat, not even breathing hard.

“Don’t- Steve, don’t stop.” My legs shook on either side of his hips, my toes curling into his sheets, my hands searching for anything to find purchase in. “Please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll,” he whispered, slipping his free hand between my fingers to give me something to hold onto. “Let go for me. Let go, darlin’.” He bit the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder as his fingers pistoned out of me, the muscles of his arm rippling with every movement.

The heat in my stomach spread through my body, building and building until I was crying Steve’s name in a shaky voice, pleasure searing from the toes digging into Steve’s mattress to the top of my head. My legs quaked and tightened around his waist, pushing his fingers deeper inside me. My walls clenched and unclenched around him, my nails creating little half moon crescents on the back of his hand as he rocked me through my high.

“That’s it,” he cooed as I came back down, my body slumping into his sheets. “Jesus, doll, you’re so pretty when you come for me. So damn pretty.” He planted a quick kiss to my lips.

“Mmmm.” I turned my face into his pillow, unable to hide to blissed out smile spreading across my face.

“Was it good?”

“Mhmm. So good.”

“Good.”

“Your turn.” I sleepily reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out a chuckle.

“You sure you’re up for that? We don’t have to. I’m perfectly content just going to bed for the night.”

I shook my head and sat up, maneuvering him so he was lying on his back, his legs spread on either side of me. His dick tented the grey fabric, a small wet spot darkening the color near the head.

“You got a roll of quarters in there, Stevie, or are you just excited to see me?”

He rolled his eyes and palmed his erection, his thin, long fingers curling easy around the impressive, clothed length. He raked his eyes over my body, rubbing his thumb against the head, slowly chewing his lower lip.

I pushed his hand out of the way and tugged on the waistband; he lifted his hips to help me pull them over his annoyingly perfect ass, blushing once the fabric reached his thighs and his dick swung towards his stomach, thick and hard.

I felt my jaw drop.

Steve’s cock sat heavy against the muscular planes of his stomach, the head flaming red and cut, a silvery bead of precum leaking from the tip; a thick vein ran down the underside, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning down and tracing it with my tongue. A shudder ran through his body, goosebumps rising on his skin as I wrapped my fingers around his length, shaking my head as my fingers struggled to close all the way around it.

“Jesus, Steve.”

He smiled and ran his fingers through my hair, biting into his lip when I softly kissed the tip. Swirling my tongue around the head, I shifted forward on the bed to get a better angle to take him deeper into my mouth, shaking a little at his moans.

“So good for me, doll,” he praised, watching me stretch my lips down his shaft. The sheer width of his dick filled my mouth, pushing the corners of my lips out, the head resting thick and heavy against my tongue. I swallowed as best as I could with so much of him in my mouth, making him moan and tighten his grip in my hair.

“Wanna fuck your mouth,” he panted, lifting his hips so the tip bumped against the back of my throat. “Wanna fuck that pretty little mouth till you can’t talk tomorrow.” I moaned around his cock and nodded vigorously.

Steve moved me around so I was kneeling on the ground, his thick cock level with my face as he stood over me. I wrapped my fingers around the base, licking the head with just the tip of my tongue, lapping up the drops of bitter precum dripping from his slit. He pulled my hair into a makeshift ponytail, burying his fingers into the roots and pressng his hips forward, pushing the head past my lips. I dropped my jaw obediently, looking up at him as best I could through my lashes, watching his jaw drop slowly as he pushed his cock deeper into my throat. Breathing slowly through my nose, I willed my gag reflex to relax, the head of Steve’s cock bumping against the back of my throat before his length was even half way in.

“That’s it. So fuckin’ good for me. You think you can take the whole thing, doll?”

My eager, “Mhmm” came out slightly muffled and Steve’s cheeks flushed further, tightening his grip in my hair.

He pushed his hips forward until my nose was pressing up against the tight skin of his pelvis, my eyes watering slightly from his size. He moaned and hung his head forward, breathing a little heavily. He carefully pulled back out, waiting until he was all the way out of my mouth before pushing the head past the seam of my lips. His pace rapidly picked up and I forced myself not to gag, breathing through my nose and relaxing my aching jaw as best I could.

His cock pistoned between my lips, the head buried in the back of my throat, quiet grunts and moans falling from his mouth.

“So good, doll,” he groaned, thrusting back into my mouth. “Not gonna last long.”

I put my hands on either one of his hips, trying to signal him to stop long enough to let me talk. He took the hint and pulled his swollen cock from my mouth, his eyes darkening as he traced his thumb across my lips, no doubt red and puffy from his movements.

“I want you inside me,” I said hoarsely, wrapping my fist around his cock to jerk it a couple times.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I leaned forward to lap up another drop of precum and Steve shivered.

“Get up here then.”

He lifted my off the floor before I had a chance to move, manhandling me like I weighed nothing. He laid me on the bed, pulling my lips to his as he lined his cock up with my entrance.

“Are you sure about this?”

I nodded and leaned up slightly to press my lips against his.

“Positive, Steve. Please.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath and circling his hand around the thick base of his cock.

“Oo-oh.” My body arched off the bed into Steve’s chest as he carefully pushed the head in, his body flushing red. “Oh my god. Slow, Steve, slow.”

The dull burn of being stretched spread from my core to my stomach, making me squirm against his hold. The blunt pressure of his head pushing into my body drew my back into a tight arch, my lips pressed together to try to muffle any hint of the pain/pleasure combination running through my body. He slowly stretched me out, planting kisses in a line from my collarbone to my ear, murmuring soft encouragements.

“Relax, doll, relax. I’m right here. Gonna go slow, promise. I won’t hurt you.”

After what seemed like a lifetime, Steve’s hips were fully flushed with mine, his cock buried to the hilt deep inside me. I felt full, so unbelievably full.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he groaned, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “So fucking tight.”

“Jesus, Steve. Watch your language.”

He rolled his eyes and I started to laugh, the noise getting stuck in my throat as he slowly shifted his hips back, drawing his cock back ever so slightly. My back bowed further, long, drawn out moans spilling out of my mouth before I could even think about stopping them.

“Oh-oh, Steve, please. Faster, please.”

He immediately indulged me, pulling out so only the head remained inside me before slamming back inside, his hips instantly starting to piston at a rapid pace. The entire bed rattled with his movements, rocking back and forth on it’s feet, creaking with every slide. A small part of my brain panicked, wondering if the noises would carry out so the other Avengers could hear, but that part was quickly being drowned out by Steve. It was intoxicating. The warmth of his body searing against mine, throwing gasoline on the fire that was devouring both of us; the way he cupped my face, gently touching his forehead to mine and whispering sweet words I could barely process.

“You’re so beautiful like this. Fuck, so pretty. Yeah, yeah, say my name again. Please, doll. _Yes,_ Mace, yes. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

“Steve, oh, oh, Steve, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Can we- Macy, can we, do you wanna try something?” He slowed down, his hips still with his cock fully buried inside me. I whined at the lack of friction, automatically thrusting my hips up to find more.

“Try what?”

“Doggy style?”

“Steve Rogers knows what doggy style is?”

He huffed and shook his head.

“Just because I don’t have any _experience_ doesn’t mean I haven’t done research.”

“So porn.”

“Copious amounts of porn.”

I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation, Captain America discussing his porn watching habits while balls deep inside me.

“Do you want to try it? Or should we stay like this?”

“Let’s try it. Want you to fuck me from behind.”

And just like that, the steamy, frantic mood fell back over us, Steve’s lips sealing over mine as he pulled out and quickly flipped me onto my stomach. I lifted myself into my hands and knees, tugging a pillow under my cheek as I leaned down, bending at my elbows and curving my back.

“Jesus Christ, you’re sexy.” Steve ran both hands over the curve of my ass before placing a hard smack to one of my cheeks; my whole body shifted forward and I couldn’t help the cry that burst from my lips.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked quickly, immediately rubbing the spot he’d hit.

“Do it again,” I begged breathlessly, bending my back into it’s previous position so he had the most access to my ass.

“What?”

“Do it again, harder. Please, Steve.”

There was a beat of hesitation before his hand swung back, his open palm clapping onto my ass with a loud smack; the hot burst of pain was followed by thousands of warm, tiny pinpricks that numbed into a dull pain. I moaned into the pillow, biting into the pillowcase to keep from screaming. Steve lined himself back up with my entrance, gripping the base of his cock with one hand and smacking my ass with the other, the mushroom head of his cock pressing tightly inside me.

“Nuh uh,” he tsk’d, reaching forward and snatching the pillow out from under my head, bottoming out in the process.  “I want to hear every noise you make for me. Okay?”

I nodded, a low groan slipping from my lips as he pulled his hips back, quickly thrusting forward and setting the same nearly brutal pace as before. The bed squeaked at his pace, the springs bouncing in protest as he drove in and out of me, almost drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; the headboard tapped against the wall, hard enough it was starting to leave little dents in the drywall.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” I groaned, dropping my head onto my crossed arms. His hand, big and warm, slid to grip my shoulder, pulling me back against him as hard as he was pushing forward into me. Quiet little noises started to spill out of my mouth, small ‘uh uh uh’s pouring out of me in time with his thrusts. “Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grunted, drilling into me at an inhuman pace. He reached under me, lifting my hips just a little, his index and middle fingers pressing hard pressure to my clit. A high whine filled the room, and it took me a second to realize it was coming from me. Steve moaned, deep and throaty, scratchy, and pressed his lips into my shoulder.

“You gonna come for me again?” he asked, his teeth quickly chasing after his kiss. He didn’t bite hard, just enough to spark a flash of heat up my spine and pinch of pain across my shoulder. “Wanna see you come again. That’s it- come all over my cock.”

“I can’t,” I panted, crying out as his thrusts sped up to a speed no normal, not super soldier human could manage. Even as I said it, the pleasure started started to build in my stomach, my toes curling into the mattress. He was going to make me come again.

“Yes you can. Come on, doll, just one more. One more for me. Come all over my cock.”

My hands fisted into the sheets beneath me as my second orgasm rocked through me, screams filling the room as Steve kissed along my shoulders, his fingers cirling my clint until I was begging him to stop, the feeling too much.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against the back of my shoulder. He pumped back into me, once, twice, three times, before quickly pulling out and spurting hot streams of come across my back. He moaned, low in the back of his throat.

“I- didn’t mean to do that,” he said slowly, laughing a little. “Let me go get a towel.”

I giggled and laid fully down onto the bed, finally unbending my knees and sighing as my body sank into the soft sheets. Steve came back a few minutes later, depositing a couple bottles of water on the nightstand and kissing my shoulder. He wiped off my back before tossing the towel into the hamper and worming us both under the blankets; one of his arms easily flipped me over, wrapping around my waist and tucking me into the warm expanse of his chest. I trailed my fingers across his chest, tracing the different lines of muscles as he pulled the comforter over us both.

“WE don’t have to talk about this tonight,” he said softly, carding his fingers slowly through my hair. “But I do think we should talk about this. Probably after you’ve not had alcohol in your system.”

“I’m sober,” I mumbled, cuddling deeper into his embrace. Between the sex, the way he was running his fingers through my hair, and the warmth his body was constantly radiating, I was about to fall asleep. He pressed a kiss to the side of my head, shifting up so I was half laying across his chest, one of his arms supporting me while the other wrapped across his body and over me.

“Sleep, doll,” he whispered, giving me a quick, warm peck before I finally drifted off.

….

I woke up the next morning to sloppy super soldier kisses across my entire face.

“Steeeve.” I swatted at him lazily, trying to pull the blankets over my face. “I have morning breath.”

“I don’t,” he said, moving the blankets off my face and continuing his onslaught of kisses. “I already went on a run with Sam, and showered.”

“Yeah, well, some of us love ourselves and sleep in.”

He chuckled and kissed the tip of my nose before leaning back, propping his head up with one hand and stroking my cheek with the other.

“Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.

“Do I have a choice?”

He laughed a little and shook his head. “Not really, no.”

“Then let’s talk about it.”

Steve searched my face for a minute before speaking, his piercing blue eyes full of nerves and hesitation.

“I’ve had feelings for you for a while,” he said slowly, like he was picking each word carefully. “Bucky knew before I did, actually. Kept giving me shit about making puppy dog eyes at you. I just- this life? Everything has been so confusing and overwhelming since I came out of the ice. I didn’t know who I was, who I wanted to be. I’ve been Captain America since they thawed me. You’re the first person who’s made me feel like Steve Rogers again.”

His mouth quirked into an adorable sideways smile.

“Kid basket case.”

“You’re not a basket case, Steve.”

“Maybe not.” He paused, stroking my cheek with his thumb, concern written all over his face. “Do- are the feelings mutual? I mean, if this was just a one time thing for you, that’s more than okay. I just need to know, you know?”

“Steve.” I leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss against his lips. “How could I not be crazy about you? You’ve been there for me since I joined the Avengers. You’ve done nothing but support me, be there for me, and the fact you’re built like a Greek god doesn’t hurt either.”

He laughed loudly, gathering me into his arms and squeezing tight.

“That’s so good to hear,” he rumbled, burying his face in my hair. “So good.”

We stayed like that for a while, me pressing kisses to any part of Steve I could reach while he snuggled into me like a puppy. Until Steve’s stomach started growling, demanding both our attention.

“Oh, my god,” I giggled, playfully shoving him off me.

“I have a fast metabolism!” he said, tossing his arms off, his smile so wide it made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Uh huh. Should we go see if the rest of the team is up yet?”

He nodded and waited patiently for me to get dressed, throwing on the leggings from the night before and one of his enormous shirts. It hung loosely on my frame, but it was soft and smelled like Steve, so I was happy.

The two of us padded into the common area and I made a bee-line for the coffee machine, Steve sliding around the island to start making a protein shake.

A few of the Avengers were scattered around the room, Nat and Clint both seated at the island, Tony leaning against the counter, and Sam talking with Thor in the lounge area.

“About time you got up,” Clint said around a mouthful of cereal. He pointed with his spoon to a cup of steaming coffee already sitting on the counter. “Cap already fixed you a cup.”

“Oh. Thanks, Steve.” I smiled warmly at him and he blushed, turning his attention to measuring the right amount of chocolate protein powder into his shaker.

Just then, a resounding boom echoed through the entire complex, loud enough that even Clint, one hearing aid down, jumped. Steve dropped his protein shaker, milk splattering across the kitchen, his entire body going into defense mode.

Tony opened his mouth to bark an order to Jarvis, already pulling his portable suit gloves out of his pajama pants pockets, but Jarvis beat him to it.

“It appears the bed in Captain Rogers’ room has collapsed. The frame separated from both the headboard and the legs. There is no immediate danger.”

The whole room went quiet, minus the sound of milk dripping from the kitchen counter.

“How, uh, how exactly did Cap’s bed break?” Tony asked, looking up at Jarvis’ sensor in the middle of the ceiling.

“I get into bed really aggressively!” Steve cried a the same time Jarvis coolly said, “Captain Rogers’ bed was compromised last evening during, shall I say, extracurricular activities with Ms. Smith.”

This wasn’t happening. Like they were watching a damn tennis match, everybody’s heads turned between me and Steve, several mouths dropping open.

“You two actually got together.” Tony said, the first one to speak. “I didn’t think you’d sleep together. I sent you up there as a joke, but, fuck.”

My face was flaming red, jaw clenched tight, and Steve wasn’t much better.

“I didn’t think you had it in ya’, Cap,” he continued, slapping Steve on the shoulder. “Or, in Macy, should I say.”

“Tony,” Nat said warningly, seeing Steve’s face switch from embarrassed to pissed. “Play nice. We’re all very happy for you two. Now maybe you’ll stop staring at each other like lost puppies all the time.”

Clint turned back to his cereal, raising his spoon in agreement before digging back in. Tony snickered before making his way out of the kitchen with a thermos full of coffee, Steve glaring at his retreating back.

“Hey,” I said softly, walking to his side of the island and sliding my hand up his arm. His frame instantly relaxed, one arm snaking loosely around my waist. “Don’t worry about Tony. He’s an ass, just like you said last night.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“So it looks like I’m gonna need to go bed frame shopping,” he said, watching me pick my coffee up and take a long drink. “Wanna team up with Captain America on another harrowing adventure?”

“Nah,” I said teasingly, trying not to grin at the flash of offense across Steve’s face. “But I’d be down for shopping with Steve Rogers.” A slow smile spread on my face. “Boy basket case.”


End file.
